he knew how to walk, with the most delicate balance
200 feet in the air
His delicate pointed feet padded onto the rope
his narrow hips
and strong skinny-muscle arms
were like a song
he had red red lips
and black black hair that curled around his ears
and he wore in his eyes a sparkle

and she knew how to walk, with the proudest swing of her arm
through a pit of lions
And with a point-toed bow
how to make them lie down, gentle as kittens
She knew how to sweep her arm up, and make their knees bend
and their red mouths yawn at her, sweet as kisses
she knew how to cast me secret-eyed smiles with her lovely curling mouth,
look what they think i can do
but i knew
that they were seeing the magic in her
that i did

i remember the great proud elephants,
and the wise rap-tapping monkeys
the tigers prowling and proud in their cages, so sad
i remember the lions, and how they would roar and roar
until she came around, and then, like anything, they would purr

i remember the ringmaster in his coattails,
sweeping his cane and tipping his hat, shouting,
"LADIES!"
crash
"AND!"
crash
"GENTLEMEN!"
crash crash crash, a fabulous,
intoxicating,
crescendo

i remember me
with my hat lowered, and my eyes glittering out from under it
my lips curled and coy
and my feet,
planted lightly,
as if to dance.
With a sweep of my hand I would make magic for them.
A rabbit
A scarf
A beautiful woman disappearing behind the snap of a lavish red cloth
leaving the audience
gasping
and gaping.

once, someone asked me how i did it
i told them
think of the tight-rope-walker
the lion-tamer
think of the ringmaster
magic is people, i said
and people
perform.